047 - Roundabouts

I’m pretty sure, without a doubt

That I love me a roundabout

It’s no doubt because they function

As super mega highway junctions

Getting peeps from A to B

Happens much more easily

With windy circular bits of road

That ensure the traffic stays flowed

There’s a place named Basingstoke

Where they breed roundabouts, as a joke

They raise them from the time they hatches

And sell them off to towns in batches

And further north in Milton Keynes

It’s one giant roundabout machine

I think they’ve got well over one hundred

The phenomenon is pretty widespread

So the next time you hit a roundabout

Don’t tut or sigh or start to shout

Don’t be sad, or get into a fright

It could be worse with traffic lights

* * *

This poem appears in the book World’s Bestest Poetry Volume One, available from the Shop!